Caressed By Ice (Psy-Changeling 3)

Faith's lips curved upward, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Then I almost pity Judd." Leaning in, she whispered, "Make him uncomfortable. Don't take no for an answer. Push. Push him until he loses control. Remember, fire melts ice."

Brenna looked into those eerie night-sky eyes as Faith drew back. "Could be a dangerous game."

"You don't seem to be the kind of woman content with safe and easy."

"No." She also wasn't the kind of woman who gave up at the first obstacle. Judd might be categorically Psy, but she was a SnowDancer.

Almost eleven hours later, Judd found himself thinking of the way Brenna had watched him that morning as they made their way back to the den. Her gaze had been so intent, it had felt disconcertingly like a touch, no matter how impossible that was. However, the second they had actually entered the den, she'd left him and -

He shook his head in a futile attempt to wipe her from his mind. He had to concentrate. Thinking about Brenna had a dangerous way of derailing that. She was up to something, of that he was certain. Her expression had been -

Focus!

The church appeared on the other side of the street like an architectural specter, reminding him of who he was and what he did when darkness fell and people thought themselves safe in their beds. He wasn't so different from Enrique - death was his gift and the only thing he could offer Brenna. That thought finally cemented his focus. He extended his stride, concentrating on the yellow light spilling from the church's curved windows.

He had never decided whether the Ghost had chosen this as their meeting place out of perversity or hope. The church was small. It had been built after the Second Reformation half a century ago and was filled not with stained glass and candles, but leafy green plants and, in the daytime, bright sunshine. Tonight he entered to find it empty but for a solitary woman kneeling at the altar. He slid into a pew at the back, his eyes on the stars visible through the transparent dome of the roof. It made him remember what he'd given up when he'd left the PsyNet - the cool darkness, the icy flare of millions of minds.

"The young ones don't kneel, but the old grew up in the time of Rome." The voice was male and full of the same peace that soaked the walls of this building. It was the single thing this church had in common with the more ornate pre - Second Reformation churches - the sense of hushed reverence, a quiet that was so pervasive it was almost sound.

Judd glanced at the man who'd taken a seat beside him. "Father Perez."

Perez smiled, teeth flashing white against his teak skin. "That makes me sound like a candidate for the senior citizens' pension. I'm only twenty-nine." Wearing the winter uniform of a Second Reformation priest - loose white pants and shirt, the latter bearing a panel on the left side patterned with blue snowflakes, he looked even younger. It was the knowledge in his eyes that made him old.

Judd thought of him not as a priest, but as a fellow soldier. "It's your title."

"We've been working together for close to six years. Why won't you call me Xavier? Even our shy friend calls me by my given name."

Because using Father Perez's given name would be the first step on the road to friendship and Judd didn't want a friend. To do what he did, to be what he was, he had to retain his distance. From those who would be friends and the one woman who might be...more. "Did he give you something for me?"

A sigh. "No matter what you've done, Judd, judgment is not yours to make." Perez passed over a data crystal encased in protective plasglass. The crystals cost more than the ubiquitous discs, but they were more secure and held larger amounts of data.

Judd slid it into an inner pants pocket. "Thank you." He didn't need the data for tonight's operation, but he would for the next hit.

"The New Book says God does not wish to punish or harm us. God wishes us to learn and grow, to become better souls through the ages."

To believe that, he'd have to possess a soul. "What about true evil?" Judd asked, mind awash in memories of a blood-drenched room and a woman with bruises ringing her neck. "What does your book say about that?"

"That good men must fight the evil and that bad men will be judged in death."

Judd looked at the lone parishioner still kneeling at the altar. She was sobbing, the sound soft and almost apologetic. "Sometimes, evil needs to be judged in the moment, before it kills the good, destroys all light."

"Yes." Perez's eyes went to the woman. "That is why I sit with you."

"How do you balance the two halves of your self - the priest and the soldier?" The light and the darkness. It was not a question he should've asked, not a possibility he should've considered, but it was done and now he waited. Because he needed the answer.

"The same way you balance your todays and tomorrows. With hope and forgiveness." The other man rose. "I must comfort her. Only you can comfort yourself."

Judd watched Perez walk down the wide aisle and kneel to place his arm around the shoulders of the woman who wept. She turned into his embrace, finding succor. A simple act, but one that Judd was incapable of. He was a na**d blade, his purpose - his gift - to kill. As a child, he'd been deemed unfit to live with others and relocated, brought up among the shadows. He had no business being in the SnowDancer den now that the rest of the family was safe, and absolutely no right to do what he'd been doing with Brenna.

And he had been actively doing, allowing her to get closer than he allowed any other being, coming perilously close to breaching Silence. That could not be permitted. Ever. Because while Brenna might see him as a man, the cold, hard truth was that he wasn't - he was an assassin. Trained. Honed.